


Everybody Here Was Someone Else Before

by heyjupiter



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie(s), Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Logan wakes up on an Army base with no memories of the last five days, he has little choice but to trust the shape-shifting officer who helps him escape. For her part, Raven could use some company while she investigates a mysterious message she's received.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Here Was Someone Else Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lsh1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lsh1/gifts).



> Thanks to jadieladie for her fantastic beta-ing!
> 
> Title, of course, from "Welcome to New York" by Taylor Swift.

Logan wakes up gasping for air, claws out. He's hyper-alert, looking for the threats he'd been dreaming of. Immediately, his senses are overwhelmed with input--the smells of bleach, medicine, illness tell him _hospital_. The t-shirt and sweats he doesn't remember putting on tell him _Army_. His stomach growls and tells him _hunger_. The metal cuffs around his wrists, connecting him to the frame of the cot tell him _trouble_. A man's voice tells him, "Ah, Logan, glad to see you among the living."

Logan's eyes focus on a man in an Army uniform who tells him, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. And I'm sure you understand this isn't the place to ask them."

Logan shakes his head. "I don't understand anything. I need to know--"

The man--his uniform identifies him as Major Stryker--says, "You need to rest, Logan. You're an important asset to the US Army and we need to make sure you're back on your feet before you get back in training."

"Training?" Logan asks, furiously. "For what?" He'd left the Army years ago. He'd more than put in his time.

Stryker stares at Logan, and his eyes briefly flash to yellow. "I understand you're disoriented, Logan, but try to keep up. I'll be back with some food for you."

Logan looks around the room for clues. He doesn't understand. What had just happened with Stryker's eyes? Was it a trick of the light, or something more? 

And where is he, exactly? The handcuffs indicate he's being held against his will, although if they were serious about it, he'd be in a cell with some stronger restraints than standard-issue cuffs. It looks more like he's in a sick bay on a military base. There are fifteen other cots in the room, but his is the only one occupied. Why would he even be a patient? He heals. It's what he does. Whatever has happened to him, he's nearly healed from it.

Logan tests the metal cuffs at his wrists. He doubts he's here for a good reason, but he hates being in the dark like this. If he's going to wake up handcuffed to a bed, he'd like to remember the events leading up to it. He'd like for Gwen to be there.  
He wonders where Gwen is. He was supposed to be her bodyguard. Had something happened to her? Is that what got him here? Even if she's okay, he's probably fired, but that doesn't matter. That kind of work is easy to come by for Logan--though girls as pretty as Gwen aren't. He doesn't smell any trace of her in the room.

Major Stryker returns to the room with a tray of food and a newspaper. Logan notices that the man has a slight limp. "Here," he says. "This should get you caught up."

He props the tray up and unlocks Logan's right arm from the bed frame. Logan ignores the newspaper and shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth. He wonders how long he's been out; his stomach feels bottomless.

Around a mouthful of eggs, he asks, "Where's Gwen?"

"Who?" Stryker replies, genuinely confused.

"The girl I was…" he trails off, seeing the blank look in Stryker's eyes.

Stryker shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't know who you mean. You were alone when I found you. Read the paper, Logan."

Logan's senses clue him in on the subtle distinctions when most people lie--quickened pulse, the panicked breathing, odd fidgeting. As far as Logan can tell, Stryker's telling the truth about this, although he does seem generally nervous about something. Logan eats rapidly, trying to put together the story.

Stryker taps the newspaper, as if Logan hadn't noticed it. 

"The paper will still be here after I finish eating breakfast. No point in letting good food get cold."

"These rations can hardly be called 'good food.'"

"All the more reason not to let them get cold, then."

Stryker crosses his arms and makes a huffy sound. It's not behavior in line with military protocol--it almost reminds Logan of an annoyed teenager. But Stryker doesn't do anything to stop Logan from eating his toast, so Logan finishes his meal. Impatiently, Stryker takes the tray away, leaving only the newspaper on Logan's bedside table. It's from Tuesday, January 30, 1973. Assuming that's today, there are five days he doesn't remember. He hadn't had _that_ much to drink with Gwen. Had he been drugged? 

The newspaper's top headline is "Mutant Saves President and Cabinet--Sentinel Program Cancelled."

Logan shrugs. "Okay, so, good for Nixon?"

"Keep reading," Stryker says through gritted teeth. 

Logan reads the rest of the article. Below the fold, there's another story--"Trask Arrested for Selling Military Secrets." 

"Yeah, sounds like it was a banner day for America," he says. "What's your point?"

Stryker turns the page and taps another article. It's about the cleanup process on the White House lawn, but underneath it, handwritten in pencil, it says, "Trust me. I have a plan. I'll get us both out of here soon. We're being watched."

Logan blinks. "Well, this has been super informative." He's been digging through his memory and can't come up with anything about this Stryker. Have they met before? Why should he trust him? On the other hand, since the last thing he remembers is being dredged out of the river, maybe he could stand to make a new friend. Where's Gwen? Why can't he remember how he got in the river? Was it a mafia hit against him? How could he have let that happen? And what river was it? The Hudson? The paper is the Washington Post, which doesn't necessarily mean anything. Aloud, he asks, "Where am I?"

"You're outside Washington, DC." Stryker frowns. "Logan. What's the last thing you remember?" 

Logan wonders if he should give this information away--is he revealing a weakness to an enemy? But Stryker seems friendly enough. Logan's senses are stilling telling him this man can be trusted, so he answers honestly, "Uh… oh. I was on a boat?" 

"Before that? How did you get on the boat?" Stryker prods.

Logan frowns. "Huh. I dunno. Last thing I remember before that I was working a bodyguard job--I'd guess I probably don't have that anymore, though."

"Where was the bodyguarding job?"

"New York." Logan probably shouldn't mention to the Army that it was for a mafia boss's daughter, but Stryker doesn't ask about that.

"So you don't remember Paris? Or the White House?"

"Uh. I remember a lot of stuff," Logan says vaguely. He has over a hundred years worth of memories rattling around in his head. The last time he was in Paris was probably during the second World War.

"Shit," Stryker mutters.

"What about Paris?" Logan asks. "What happened?"

"I'll bring you up to speed on the project later. Information is given on a need-to-know basis," Stryker says, sounding almost apologetic. He takes the empty food tray and leaves the room. He leaves Logan's right hand free, and Logan knows it would be easy enough for him to either pick the lock on his left hand or simply break the chain with brute strength. But he decides to give this Stryker a chance. It should be easy enough for him to get away later, if it comes to that. But he's sure he's currently unemployed, and anyway, he's a little intrigued by whatever project Stryker is offering. 

Plus, he's tired. Whatever had happened to him recently, it feels as though some internal injuries are still be healing. He notes that his head is a little fuzzy, possibly indicating painkillers in his system as well. If he had to, he's sure he _could_ make a break for it, but for now, the crisp white pillow on this Army cot is more inviting than it ought to be. He closes his eyes and hopes that things will make more sense when he awakens.

* * *

Back in Stryker's office, Raven sits down at his desk and wonders how Logan's apparent amnesia will change her plans. If Logan truly doesn't remember--and she doesn't credit him with being an excellent actor--perhaps that will make him more likely to trust her. Perhaps he'd had some kind of seizure or stroke. She remembers seeing him collapse in Paris. 

She looks again at Logan's file. Stryker has pulled together all of Logan's military records, apparently dating back to World War I. The names and birthdates have changed, but photos and fingerprints all line up. In the margins, Stryker had written lots of excited notes and theories about Logan's longevity and endurance. There were also typed up notes copied to Trask with ideas about how to test his limits. They sound horrific, just like all of Stryker's other plans for mutants. He'd been working closely with Trask, although he didn't understand the science as well as Trask. Still--no human could be trusted with any of this information.

It makes her uneasy to know that Bolivar Trask is still alive, even if he is imprisoned. She knows too well how easily a person with resources can escape from prison. Trask already done so much harm to mutants, killed so many of them. William Stryker is still alive, too, although she's already questioning that decision. She'd had to act quickly when she realized the military was looking for Logan's body. 

Her thoughts flip then to Charles, and her annoyance that he would try to take the moral high ground with her about killing Trask. _The girl I grew up with wasn't capable of killing._ Charles didn't know what Raven was capable of. That was why she had left.

She'd periodically spied on Charles over the years and been disappointed by what she had seen. Even if he hadn't been able to appreciate her gifts, his school for mutants could have done good for others. But instead, he shut himself off to the world, cozy in his mansion, while she's been out in the world, risking her life actually helping mutants. But in the end, he'd kept his promise to her and stayed out of her mind. He'd guilt-tripped her, but he hadn't controlled her. And the message he'd sent her indicates he's ready to change his tune. He's ready to trust her with important work. _It's about time._

Raven has to act fast to get Logan out of the base with minimal fuss--the real Stryker's drug-induced stupor should wear off in a few hours. She types out a memo ordering the mutant asset to be transferred to Stryker's facility in Saigon. She's so tired of all this military jargon, jargon that reduces her fellow mutants to "assets" to be traded and experimented on. Luckily, her current enlistment is almost over.

Raven puts the memo in Stryker's outbox and then packs up all of his files on mutants in a standard-issue Army duffel. She double-checks that the telegram from Charles is in her pocket, along with the photos she needs to stop Stryker.

She still has some time to kill. Although she doesn't want to linger on the base any longer than necessary, she's decided it will be safer to leave with Logan at 12:30, when pretty much everyone else on base will be eating or preoccupied with other duties. Studying Stryker's desk again, she decides she might as well pass the time reading the hidden _Playboy_ magazine she'd found on her first inspection of his desk. Men are all alike, so she wasn't surprised to see it there.

She _is_ surprised, however, when she opens the magazine and a folded piece of paper falls out. Bending to pick it up and read it, she realizes it is a letter dated from last year on Charles' old stationery. The letter thanked Stryker for his repeated interest in Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, but informed him that the school had been closed for years and thus could not accept his son Jason as a student. The signature at the bottom is Hank's.

She re-reads it three times and it's still the same. Stryker's _son_ is a mutant. Or he isn't? Maybe the letter was some kind of ruse? _Shit._

Either way, she needs to investigate. If Stryker does have a mutant son, she needs to get the child to safety soon. Before acting on the rest of her plans. She puts the letter from Hank in her pocket, replaces the magazine in his bottom desk drawer, and returns to the medical bay. To her dismay, the room is thick with a sickly-sweet odor and an Army doctor is looking at Logan. She glances at the doctor's insignia.

"Lieutenant Thomas, what are you doing in here?" she asks, her voice icy. Luckily, she outranks him--or at least, Stryker does. His face is covered with a surgical mask, but he's young, probably fresh out of med school.

"Sir, I'm attending to the patient. That's my duty. Sir."

"Did you not see the memo I posted this morning, lieutenant?" She'd ordered Logan to remain in quarantine, including some frightening language about his mutant abilities.

"Yes sir, and I took the necessary precautions before examining him, sir."

"And what precautions are those, lieutenant?"

"Sir, since the asset is so dangerous, I chloroformed him to prevent any violent outbursts. His healing factor is remarkable, there's not a scratch on him. I'd love to study the asset further. Sir." Thomas looks appraisingly at Logan, impressed in spite of himself.

Raven fights a sigh. "Well, lieutenant, you're not going to get the chance for that. He's being transferred today. You're dismissed."

"But, sir," the lieutenant starts.

"That's an order, lieutenant," Raven says, making her voice sound commanding, doing her best to channel Magneto.

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant says. "But sir--be advised that the asset has a much higher than average metabolism, so he needs--"

"Lieutenant, I've already forgotten more information about mutants than you know. Now, you'd best get out of here before I add insubordination to your record. _Dismissed_."

"Yes, sir," Thomas says, taking his clipboard and leaving the med bay at a brisk pace.

Raven presses her lips together in frustration. She really does not want to have to deal with transporting an unconscious Logan. Luckily, the doctor hadn't been exaggerating about Logan's accelerated metabolism, and after a few minutes Logan comes to with a groan. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

Raven watches cautiously.

After a moment, Logan catches his breath. He growls, "That all part of your plan?"

"Not exactly," Raven admits. "I'm sorry. Anyway, there's been a slight change to the plan--we're leaving now."

"Fine by me," Logan replies.

Raven pulls out the key to Logan's cuffs and says, "You have to follow my instructions if we're going to get off this base."

Logan curls his lip and says, "Sure, whatever."

She purses her lips, but decides against saying more. She unlocks Logan from the cot and curses. "Shoes. I forgot shoes," she says. "We'll have to get some later."

"Bare feet are really the least of my problems," Logan replies. He stands up and stretches.

"Fair enough," Raven says. "Also, I'm going to have to cuff your hands together."

"This again?"

"It's temporary. Until we leave the base."

Logan rolls his eyes and offers his hands. She gently twists them behind his back and cuffs him. She suspects they both know that the cuffs wouldn't hold him for long, but Raven knows better than anyone how important appearances are.

"Now follow me, and don't say anything to anyone," Raven says. 

"I need a drink," Logan says.

"You and me both," Raven replies. "Let's go."

"Where're we going?"

"Need-to-know basis," Raven says sharply. She tries to communicate with her eyes that she'll tell him later; she's not sure where all of the base's eyes and ears might be.

Logan shrugs and follows her down the hall. They pass a few other soldiers; luckily, Major Stryker outranks all of them, and so they pass by with nods and terse greetings. She sees a few soldiers note Logan's bare feet, but no one comments on them. Raven is pleased with their good fortune, but doesn't let her guard down, not until they're in Stryker's Jeep leaving the base. As promised, she unlocks Logan's hands as soon as they're free. 

He nods. "So. Where are we going? I kinda need to know."

"I can let you off wherever you'd like, as long as you promise not to give the government access to your DNA." If her DNA was dangerous in Trask's hands, as Erik had told her, surely Logan's was too. If the Army could give Logan's gift to others? Raven doesn't even want to think of it.

Logan looks at her skeptically. "Funny thing for a U.S. Army officer to ask."

"I'm not an Army officer. I'm a mutant, like you."

"You can be a mutant and be in the Army, trust me."

"Well, I'm not," Raven says. She shifts back, not to her true form, but to the blonde girl version of herself. It's easier for her to hold than Stryker's body, but won't call attention the way her blue skin would. "My name is--is Raven."

"Nice," Logan says appreciatively. "So you're what, some kind of mutant freedom fighter?"

"Something like that, I suppose. I'm trying to keep humans from experimenting on mutants."

"Well, I guess I'll go back to New York, I've got a few loose ends up there. But I can take a Greyhound."

Raven smiles. "I'm actually going to New York myself. I just have a few stops to make along the way."

"I ain't in a hurry," Logan replies.

"Here's our first stop," Raven says, pulling into a post office branch. "I'll just be a minute." She limps out of the Jeep with her bag. She takes out the photos she has of Colonel Stryker in a compromising situation with a beautiful blonde--proof that he'd been giving military secrets to a Communist spy. In the photos, you can't tell that he's drugged out of his mind or that the spy is a shapeshifting mutant. She'd had fun coming up with her Communist spy form; she'd modeled herself after a Bond girl. She mails these to the Washington Post, the New York Times, and Stryker's commanding officer.

Charles had seen to it that Trask was taken off the playing field, and Raven is reasonably confident that her manufactured scandal will take care of Stryker. If this doesn't work, she might have to go back to her Plan A and kill him.

Her next stop after the post office is the Stryker home. Marcy Stryker, a woman whose face primarily communicates exhaustion, greets him at the door with a wary look.

"Honey? Is everything alright?" she asks. "Did your mission end early?"

Raven leans in to peck her on the lips. When she'd first taken Stryker's place, she'd excused away her odd hours with a vaguely-defined "mission." Marcy hadn't asked questions, and Raven suspects the woman hadn't missed her husband much. 

Raven says, "Fine. I just forgot something at home and thought I'd take Jason out with me on an... errand." 

Marcy's expression gets warier. "What are you talking about?"

Raven shrugs. "I thought the fresh air could do some good."

"You… you know you can't take Jason out in public. Is this a joke?"

Raven hesitates. Does Stryker's son have a very visible mutation? He'd been asleep in bed the only other time Raven had been in their house. She wishes she had more information. Instead, she says, "No, it's--remember the school for mutants we applied to? They're accepting new students."

Marcy's face sags with relief. "Thank God! Why didn't you say so?"

"I… It's not a definite thing. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"I'll pack a bag for him," Marcy says.

"Thanks, hon," Raven says. She follows Marcy into the house. Marcy stops in a small bedroom. Raven peers over her shoulder and sees that it's dimly lit, and a small boy is lying in the bed, unmoving. Raven represses a shiver and goes on to the master bedroom, where she grabs a pair of shoes and socks for Logan. She checks under the bed and finds a suitcase, which she decides to pack with spare clothes for Logan. It would be reasonable for Stryker to take a bag with him to drop his son off at boarding school, after all. Stryker doesn't have much that's not Army issue, but she finds a few suitable items.

Raven takes both packed bags out to the car, then goes back for Jason. He looks relatively normal, if scrawny. Marcy doesn't seem concerned about his lack of consciousness… are the Strykers keeping him sedated? Is it out of fear of his mutant ability? Had the boy been experimented on? Raven hadn't seen any files on him, but perhaps she hadn't been looking in the right place.

"I put extra doses of his medicine in his bag," Marcy says. "You'll call me when you get there?"

"Of course," Raven lies. She kisses William Stryker's wife goodbye and carries his son out to the car.

Marcy has followed them out to the porch. She notices Logan in the Jeep, but says nothing. She's asked remarkably few questions; she seems relieved to be rid of the boy. Raven nods goodbye as she pulls out of the driveway. 

"What the fuck?" Logan asks.

"He's a mutant, too," Raven says.

"Are you building an ark or something?" he asks.

"Or something," Raven agrees.

* * *

It doesn't take long to discover that Raven is unable to answer most of Logan's lingering questions, but she thinks that the man they're going to see might be able to help. After they run through his questions, they make the rest of the five-hour drive in silence, which suits Logan just fine. The kid stirs occasionally in the backseat but never really comes to. Logan lets out a snort of laughter when Raven pulls the stolen Jeep into the long driveway of a fancy-ass mansion.

He turns to look at Raven. "This is where you're taking the kid?" he asks, incredulously.

"It's a school. Or it… was. It will be. For mutants," Raven says. She shrugs, and her skin ripples and turns blue. And her clothes disappear. Logan tries to avert her eyes--he can't be sure, but she seems young. Young enough for him to feel uncomfortable looking at her naked body. He wonders if she's technically been naked this entire time? Were the clothes just her skin, camouflaged? She smells the same now as she did when she was blonde, and as when she'd been a man. It's very disorienting for Logan.

He says, "Uh huh. Well, I'd better get to the bus station…"

"Just come in for a second," Raven says. "I think you should talk to Charles. And you can help me with Jason."

"You carried him fine before," Logan says, but he picks the kid up anyway. 

Jason stirs and says, " _Put me down_ ," his tone icy and frightening for a child.

"You sure, kid? There's snow on the ground," Logan points out. He's grateful for the shoes Raven got him, even if they are a bit tight.

" _Down,_ " Jason commands, and Logan blinks his eyes. He doesn't see the fancy mansion anymore. He sees a whole battalion of soldiers, all aiming guns at him. 

"Run!" Logan yells. He puts the kid down behind him and rushes toward the soldiers, claws out. He's dimly aware of Raven saying something, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except the soldiers, and the fact that Logan is better than they are. He fights and fights, but their numbers never diminish.

Eventually, he feels a hand on his elbow and the soldiers all vanish. Logan turns, panting, his claws still out. 

A man in a wheelchair is behind Logan, with a concerned expression on his face. "Logan, are you alright?" he asks. He's British, although the accent is a bit faded, like maybe he's been living in the US for a long time. The voice sounds faintly familiar, but Logan can't quite place it. This must be the Charles who Raven had told him about.

"What--where'd they go?" Logan asks.

"Where did who go?" Raven asks.

"The--the--you didn't see them?"

Charles says, "Don't worry, it wasn't another acid trip. It would seem that young Jason's ability is to… cause hallucinations, of some sort."

"Jason? The kid did that?" Logan asks, wondering what Charles meant about the acid trip. He finally retracts his claws. They're clean, he notices distantly--he hadn't actually stabbed anyone. Not today.

"I guess that's why his parents kept him drugged up," Raven says, her voice flat. She's holding the boy, who's unconscious again.

"Okay. Great," Logan says. "I'm just gonna go, now." He still has unanswered questions, but he's seriously creeped out. It would be better to just be on his own again.

Charles frowns. "Logan, won't you at least stay for dinner?"

"No, thanks."

"A drink, then," Charles says. 

Logan hesitates. "Fine. A drink."

"Excellent."

Logan follows the group back into the house, with its elaborate chandeliers and vases and all manner of useless shit. It has a musty smell to it, as if it's been unoccupied for awhile. Charles leads him to an office-looking room. Logan sits down on a stuffed armchair and Charles produces a bottle of very expensive scotch from a drawer. He pours Logan a generous helping.

"To old times," Charles says, raising his own glass.

"Have we met?" Logan asks.

Charles blinks. "Oh. _Oh_ ," he says.

"Oh?" Logan asks. He takes a long swig of the scotch. 

"Logan," Charles asks cautiously, "what's the last thing you remember?"

Logan squints. "Oh, Raven asked me if I remembered Paris or something? Were you there, too?"

"Interesting," Charles breathes out.

"What the fuck is so interesting?" Logan asks. The way Charles is looking at him makes him feel uncomfortable. It's very intimate, somehow.

"Five days ago, you paid me a visit," Charles says, his expression growing more concerned. "You don't remember?"

"I think I've established that I don't."

"Well… when you visited, you told me that you had been sent… from the future."

Logan laughs. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"I suppose... if your consciousness was sent back in time, and that consciousness returned to its present day... I suppose your current self might not remember any of it."

"Uh, no, I think I would remember if I had been time traveling lately. Or ever."

"May I show you something?" 

"Is it my space suit? From the future?"

Charles smiles. "No. It's a memory."

Logan flinches. "Think I've had my head messed with enough today."

"It's nothing like Jason's ability," Charles says. "It might help clarify some things for you. But it certainly won't be cause for alarm."

Logan finishes his drink. "Fine, whatever."

Charles smiles and wheels out from behind his desk. He reaches up and touches Logan's face. Logan winces, and then gasps when he sees something happening in his head. Charles had been right, it feels different from whatever Jason had done to him. It's like a movie, kind of. A movie starring himself. He watches himself explaining to Charles--this man is definitely Charles, although he wasn't in a wheelchair in the memory--that he's from the future, that he's been sent back to stop a war… 

Logan laughs out loud. "Pretty sad if the fate of humanity depends on me, huh?"

"But you did it, Logan. We did it," the man says proudly. 

"Yeah, okay."

Charles frowns. "Here. Listen to what you told me, Logan." Logan watches himself tell Charles, " _I need you to promise me something… Promise me you'll find us. Use your power, bring us together, guide us, lead us. Storm, Scott, Jean, remember those names. There's so many of us. We will need you, Professor._ "

Logan shakes his head. "Who are those people?"

"I was… rather hoping you would know," Charles says. "But I'm sure we'll find them."

"We?" Logan asks with a scoff.

"Why not stay here at the school? We could use a man of your skills," Charles persists earnestly. 

"I'm just not really a… school… guy," Logan says. He's still processing what Charles had shown him. It had been unsettling to see himself talking so passionately about strangers. Logan's not the type to make speeches, so for him to talk the way he had spoken to Charles meant those people were important to him. But a school? And how does he know Charles is telling the truth, about this being a real memory and not just some made-up hallucination? It certainly _feels_ real, but so had Jason's soldiers.

Charles studies Logan's face and says, "I'm prepared to pay you fairly. More than you'd make from the Army."

Logan recoils. "I'm not with the Army. Not anymore."

"Then who are you with?" Charles asks.

"Myself."

Charles nods. "Yes. You told me that once before... or a less polite version of that. But I understand, my friend. If you ever change your mind, you'll always have a place here. And you have my sincere thanks, always, for what you did for me."

"Uh… thanks. And you're welcome? But I should… go."

Charles takes Logan's hand and squeezes it. Logan pulls his hand away and sticks it in his pocket. 

They leave Charles's office and walk past Raven, who's waiting in the hallway. "Charles, can you help Jason?"

"Of course, Raven. I'll do whatever I can. I remember how frightening it was when my powers first developed… I'd imagine his powers have that in common with mine."

Raven nods, looking relieved. Her tone apologetic, she says, "I got your message, I'll do my best to find Jean as soon as possible, but I--I had to get Jason away from the Strykers."

"Of course," Charles says, soothingly. "I'm glad you brought him here. You did the right thing." Then he frowns. "What message?"

Raven looks puzzled. "The--the telegram? You sent me? I thought--"

"Raven, I'm sorry, I didn't send you a telegram. But, of course, I'm very happy to see you. I had hoped… I had hoped you'd come back." Charles is gazing at Raven with an expression of intense sorrow. Logan looks away. The raw emotion makes him feel uncomfortable, even though he's not the intended target.

Raven takes a deep breath. Her face remains neutral, but Logan's good at reading body language. She's upset. "Okay, fine. Logan--come on, I'll take you back home."

Logan says, "You can just drop me off at the Greyhound…" 

"I'll take you home," Raven says firmly.

"Please, stay, I can help you. Whatever message you received--" Charles pleads.

"Charles, if I stay here, what would you have me do?"

"Whatever you'd like, of course," Charles says. "This is your home as much as it is mine."

Raven crosses her arms. "It's not enough, Charles. It's not… I have to go."

"Well, surely you're not planning on taking a stolen Army Jeep anywhere else?"

"I don't have any other vehicle."

Charles sighs. "Raven, you can take anything from the garage, you know you can. Please, take the Corvette. You used to like it."

"I think you should take the Corvette," Logan says. 

"Fine," Raven huffs. "Let's go."

"But you'll come back, won't you?" Charles asks. "After you do whatever it is you need to do?"

"I--I don't know," Raven says. "It's still… I don't know."

"Did you get a doctor to look at your leg? Hank is here."

Logan sighs. He keeps to himself to avoid getting embroiled in this kind of family drama. Well, that's one of the reasons he keeps to himself, anyway.

"My leg is fine, Charles. Thank you for lending me the car. Goodbye," Raven says tersely.

"Raven," Charles pleads.

She shakes her head and limps briskly down a hallway.

Logan shrugs and follows her. He's sure he doesn't understand everything that went down between the two of them. "Uh, thanks for the scotch," he calls over his shoulder. It feels inadequate, but if Charles knows him, he'll understand that Logan's not great at words.

* * *

Raven stalks down the hall to the garage. Walking this fast hurts her leg, but she needs to get out of here. She's furious with herself for having gotten her hopes up, for having thought that Charles might really trust her and give her an actual mission. Of course Charles just wanted her to be the way she used to be; content to stay at home and be impressed by him. She pulls out the keys to the Mustang and unlocks it. Charles is right; she does love this car. It will be a dream to drive it after the clunky Jeep.

"What was that all about?" Logan asks.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter," Raven says. Her eyes sting with the hint of tears, but she fights them back. She's had enough practice at that.

"Did you say it was something about Jean?"

Raven turns to look at Logan sharply. "Do you know who Jean Grey is?"

He frowns. "Not exactly. But I think I used to know. Or… I will know." He laughs sharply. "This is all fucking nuts."

"Did you send me a telegram?"

Logan shrugs. "Not that I remember. But, looks like that doesn't mean _no_. What does it say?"

Raven produces the telegram, now worn from being folded and unfolded so much. It had arrived for Major Stryker shortly after she had replaced him, but it was clearly meant for her. And who else but Charles would have known where she was? Possibly Erik?

M--  
OUR SISTER IS UNWELL  
JEAN GREY  
616 BLUEBIRD ST  
ANNANDALE-ON-HUDSON  
NEW YORK  


Logan shrugs. "Kinda cryptic. Not really my style." He hands it back to her. After a moment, he adds, "Wait, so, Charles is your _brother_?"

Raven hesitates slightly too long. "He used to be." She shifts away from her blue skin to her blonde form and peels out of the garage. 

"Ah. I know how that goes," Logan says.

"You do?"

Logan shrugs again, visibly uncomfortable. "Never mind."

Raven's curious, but not curious enough to pry, especially given Logan's prickliness. They sit quietly as Raven heads down the road. After a few minutes, Logan says, "This is a pretty nice ride. What is it, a '61?"

"Yeah. You can have it."

Logan laughs.

"I'm serious," Raven says. "I don't want to take anything from him."

"Why don't you just bring it back to him?"

Raven shrugs. "He won't miss it. It's just… the spirit of the thing."

"In my experience, a car will get you places a lot faster than a spirit," Logan says.

Raven purses her lips. She shouldn't have expected him to understand. Whatever his family issues, he probably hadn't been adopted into absurd wealth. "Never mind. You'll have to give me directions."

"Huh?"

"Directions. I don't know where you live. Or wherever you want to be dropped off."

"Oh. Right." Logan hesitates, then opens the glove box. He pulls out a New York highway map and studies it, then starts directing her.

"I thought you wanted to go into the city?"

"Change of plans."

Raven shrugs. It isn't as if she has anywhere better to be. Gradually, she realizes Logan is directing her to Jean Grey's address. "I thought you didn't send the telegram?" she asks.

"I didn't. But…" Logan trails off.

"But?"

"Just… the memory Charles showed me… I dunno. Seems like maybe I should check this out." He runs a hand through his hair. "Besides, I guess I don't really have anything else going on right now. You know, since I lost my last job after time traveling for five days, and I hear I'm not supposed to give my DNA to the government or I might ruin the future."

Raven smiles. "That's true."

The drive to Annandale-on-Hudson isn't very far, but it's been a long day and it's dark when they arrive. When they pull up in the driveway of the Grey house, Raven suddenly wonders what she thinks she's doing. If Charles didn't send the telegram, who was it from? What did she think she was going to do? What did the message even mean?

Logan looks over at her. "Relax," he says. "What's the worst that could happen? We completely destroy the future?"

"Very funny."

"Hey. Come on. I--the memories Charles showed me… I think we're doing the right thing. I… future me… told Charles to make sure to train Jean. And I think I remember… " Logan trails off for a moment, and concludes, "It feels… important."

"You think we should take Jean back to Charles?" Raven asks.

Logan shrugs. "Well, I guess we should probably see what Jean wants to do."

"Agreed."

"And we should probably do it before someone wonders why we're just sitting in their driveway."

"Right," Raven says. She takes a deep breath and steps out of the car. Logan follows behind, and she knocks on the door.

A woman answers after the first knock. She looks elegant, in an expensive dress and tasteful makeup. "Yes?" she says.

Raven glances sidelong at Logan, who shrugs. Raven says, "Hello, is--is Jean Grey here?"

The woman's face tightens. "I'm sorry," she says, and pulls the door shut.

"Wait!" Raven calls. "We can help her."

"Jean is already getting help."

"Yeah? What kind of help?" Logan asks.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" the woman asks.

"My name is Raven, and this is Logan. We're here from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Please, could we come in?"

Raven sees the woman looking at Logan, and Raven abruptly regrets bringing him. Except, really, it had been his idea to come today, and she senses that he was right.

"I haven't heard of Xavier's," the woman says haughtily.

"It's real exclusive," Logan says.

"We're also re-opening after renovations," Raven adds. "We'd love to tell you about them."

"Could you just leave a brochure?"

"No, please, we--we came all this way," Raven says.

"Well, I'm sorry, but you weren't invited."

"No one else can help kids like Jean the way Charles Xavier can," Raven says, praying that she's not lying.

The woman looks back and forth between Raven and Logan one more time. "Fine," she says, finally. "Come inside and tell me about your school."

Raven and Logan follow her to an uncomfortably formal sitting room. It reminds Raven of all the rooms in the mansion she and Charles weren't allowed into when they were kids. It definitely doesn't seem like any children live in this house.

"So, tell us about Jean, Mrs. Grey," Raven says. She's making assumptions on the woman's name, but apparently she's correct.

Mrs. Grey says, "It seems like you already know all about her."

"What's her diagnosis?" Raven asks. 

Mrs. Grey purses her lips and lowers her voice. "Jean has a condition... it's known as multiple personality disorder. She… hears voices. She's learning how to handle it. She's just so young..."

Raven takes a sharp breath. Now she understands. "That's what we want to tell you, Mrs. Grey. Jean doesn't have multiple personalities. She has a gift. My brother was the same way, before he learned how to control it."

Mrs. Grey narrows her eyes. "Oh really?" she asks. Her tone is cold, but her eyes betray interest. 

"Yeah, he's really great," Logan says. "Really… really knows his stuff."

Raven clears her throat. "Cases like Jean's are easily misdiagnosed. We'd love it if we could schedule an appointment for her to meet with Charles?"

"Why didn't this Charles just come see me in the first place? Or why didn't he call?"

"Professor Xavier is very busy," Logan says authoritatively. Raven nods. 

"Well, I'll need to speak with Dr. Grey…" Mrs. Grey says.

"Of course. We all just want what's best for Jean," Raven says, earnestly.

"If you don't have a brochure, give me your school's contact information," Mrs. Grey says. She opens a desk drawer and produces a personalized notepad and pen. Raven carefully writes the mansion's address and phone number, information that's still burned into her brain after all these years.

Mrs. Grey tucks the information away and stands up, which Raven and Logan correctly take as their cue to leave. They shake her hand and leave. 

"Well, that wasn't a total disaster," Logan says.

Raven nods agreement. "I hope she calls… it really does sound like Charles could help her." She starts the car. "So. Where to?"

Logan frowns. "I guess I'd better get back to my apartment," he says, hesitantly. Reluctantly, it sounds like, to Raven. "Unless you want to get a drink first?"

"Yes," Raven agrees. Annandale-on-Hudson is a tiny town, but it has a college, and that means it has bars. She finds one, and she and Logan drink pitchers of cheap beer. As they drink, Raven finds herself telling Logan things. He's a good listener, and she hasn't had anyone to talk to in a long time. She tells him about why she'd left Charles behind all those years ago, and she tells him why she still wants to trust Charles, in spite of all the reasons she has not to. Logan nods in the right places, like he's still trying to piece things together. 

"My brother is the same way," Logan says, eventually. "Only wants things on his terms."

Raven laughs and raises her glass. "To brothers, huh?"

Logan shrugs and raises his glass in response. "Sometimes they're all you've got."

Logan doesn't seem interested in sharing anything else about his brother, but it sets Raven off. Ever since she parted ways with Erik, Raven hasn't had anyone to talk to about Charles. It turns out some feelings have been simmering, and it feels good to release them on someone who appears to be just listening without judgment. 

Several beers and a lot of careless words later, Raven says, "I guess we better get out of here. Where do you live?"

Logan laughs. "Give me the keys, kid."

She bristles. "I'm not a kid."

"Maybe not. But you're in no shape to drive."

Raven is sick of men telling her what to do. She knows how to handle herself."You drank a lot more than me. _So_ much more."

"Sure, but, I process it better," Logan says. "The US Army says I have a very efficient metabolism."

"You can't drive the Corvette."

"Earlier today you were going to give me the Corvette."

"Well, I changed my mind! I can do that." 

Logan looks at her for a long moment, then stands up from their booth and goes over to talk to the bartender. He comes back and says, "We can't go back to my place tonight. There's a bed and breakfast down the street. We'll stay there tonight."

"We?"

Logan rolls his eyes. "We'll get separate rooms."

She pouts. "You don't think I'm pretty?"

Logan rubs his forehead. Raven grins. "Kidding. I'm _kidding_."

"Okay. Well, I'm not. We'll stay here tonight."

"You're not the boss of me."

"True," Logan says. "But I'm someone who would like for you to stay alive."

"Aww," Raven says. She feels unreasonably touched at the sentiment. She must really be drunk. But she has been on her own for a long time, and she allows Logan to put an arm around her and steer her out of the bar. They walk down the street and Logan checks them into the promised bed and breakfast. He walks her to her bedroom and awkwardly says, "Let me know if you need anything, I guess?" before disappearing to his own room.

Raven crawls between clean, lavender-scented sheets and falls asleep the instant her head touches the decorative pillow.

In the morning she wakes up with the sun streaming in through the room's lacy curtains. It's later than she normally sleeps, and her head is pounding. Her leg aches. It's not the worst she's ever felt, but it's not great. She shifts her skin to a presentable outfit and heads in the direction of the dining room for some coffee. Coffee will help.

Logan is there, with an empty plate and a newspaper in front of him. He acknowledges her with a quick nod. There's only one other person in the dining room. Raven supposes the place doesn't get many customers on weeknights in the winter. She sits down across from Logan and a woman materializes from the kitchen with a pot of coffee. Raven vaguely remembers her from the night before.

" _Thank you_ ," Raven says fervently.

The hostess smiles. "You're welcome, miss. Now, what would you like to eat?"

"Just coffee, please."

The hostess looks disappointed. Logan says, "She'll have toast, bacon, and juice."

The hostess brightens. "I'll be right back with that!" she says, before disappearing back to the kitchen with Logan's empty plate.

Raven scowls at Logan. "I can order for myself, thank you."

"I'm betting you're pretty hungover right now. The juice and toast will be good for you."

"I think I'll throw up if I even look at bacon."

"Don't worry, I'll eat that," Logan says with a grin.

Raven rests her head on her hand and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, there's a plate in front of her. "Let me know if you'd like anything else, dear," the hostess says. Raven has the sudden urge to change her skin color, just to see the look on the hostess's face change from concern to horror. 

Instead, she says, "I'm fine, thank you."

Logan takes a piece of bacon off her plate with his fingers. Raven stares down at her toast and sips the orange juice. It does taste good, although she doesn't want to give Logan the satisfaction of revealing it. He finishes eating her bacon and then returns to reading his newspaper. He's actually a pretty good person to be hungover with.

"Hey, let me see that," Raven says. 

Wordlessly, he passes her the front segment, already folded over to the article she's looking for. William Stryker's scandal hadn't made the front page, but there's a small item about another one of Trask's accomplices facing a court-martial. She smiles and takes a small bite of toast.

After she's managed to eat all the toast, she hears a tapping sound. Looking up, she sees the dining room's other inhabitant approaching. It's a blind woman with a cane, wearing a somewhat old-fashioned dress. Her hair is tucked up under a white knitted cap. Despite her outdated clothing, the woman looks to be around Raven's age. Beneath her sunglasses, her face is beautiful and determined.

"Good morning, sister," the stranger says. "May I join you?"

Across from her, Logan tenses slightly, but he tilts his head toward Raven and says nothing. Raven says, "Yes, of course."

The woman smiles, and it lights up her face. 

Hesitantly, Raven asks, "Do you need help?"

"Thank you, I'll manage," the woman says. She taps her cane and unerringly makes her way to the chair next to Raven. "I'm so glad you got my message."

Raven turns sharply to look at the woman. "Jean?" she asks.

"No, no. My name is Irene. But I am your sister, too."

"I don't… "

Irene leans in close to Raven and whispers, "Mutant and proud."

"Oh!" Raven says. Out of habit, she glances around the dining room. 

Apparently sensing her reaction, Irene puts her hand on Raven's knee reassuringly and says, "Don't worry, you're quite safe here, at least for the moment."

"Who are you?" Raven asks.

"I told you, Raven, I'm your sister. Yours as well, Logan."

"Huh," Logan says, noncommittally.

"May we speak in private?" Irene asks.

"Sure," Raven says.

"Logan, you as well," Irene says. 

"Fine," Logan says.

"We can speak in my room," Irene says, and she rises from the table and walks down the hall without waiting to see if they'll follow. Raven glances at Logan, and they silently rise from the table.

Irene's room has a little sitting area, and Raven sits next to her on a hideous loveseat. Logan stands, pacing around the room.

Irene says, "I've been waiting for you to come back."

"Come back? I've never been here before," Raven says.

Irene shakes her head. "Logan. I've been waiting for you to return from the future."

"Jesus Christ," Logan says. Raven's heart falls. She'd thought Irene was here for her, not Logan.

Irene says, "You did well, Logan. But the future is not settled. It changes."

Logan groans. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Irene shakes her head. "Nothing, yet. You have your own journey you must take. I only wanted to express my gratitude to you."

"Did you eat a fortune cookie for breakfast or something?"

Irene ignores him and says, "Raven, your work is important. I want to help you."

Raven hesitates. Irene smiles and says, "Don't worry. I don't have much in common with your last partner. Or with your brother, for that matter. I seek not to control you, but to aid you. And I'll need your help, as well."

"Who _are_ you?" Raven asks, again.

"My name is Irene Adler, and I see the future. Or, to be more precise, the futures."

Logan groans, but Raven is captivated. Irene continues, "Raven, you and I, we both want the same thing. We want a future where mutants are safe and free to choose their own destiny."

"Yes," Raven agrees, eyes shining.

"Come with me to Mississippi," Irene says. "There's work to be done."

Raven doesn't hesitate before answering, "Yes."

Logan continues to pace the floor. Raven tells Irene, "Let me just get my things."

Raven goes upstairs to her own room. She doesn't have much, but she takes the car keys to Logan's room. "Here," she says, tossing them to him. "I wasn't joking. I want you to have it. Charles won't miss it, I promise. Or you can bring it back to him if you want. I don't care."

Logan hesitates a moment before nodding and pocketing the keys. "Listen, are you sure about this? All of it?" 

Raven nods. "Yes." She's not exactly sure why she feels so sure, but she is. 

"Well… good luck. And… thank you. I owe you one."

Raven shrugs. "Sounds like in the future maybe I owe you one, so we can probably call it even."

Logan quirks his lips. It's not quite a smile, but close. "Well, here in the present, if you ever need anything stabbed, you can look me up."

"If I need anything stabbed, I'll get my own knife," Raven replies. 

Logan does smile at that. "I bet you will. See you around, kid," he says, awkwardly patting her once on the shoulder before making his way downstairs.

Smiling herself, Raven goes back to Irene's room, ready to shape her own destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> "Multiple personality disorder" is now properly referred to as "dissociative identity disorder" but that term was in common cultural usage in the 1970s, although it did not appear in the 1968 DSM II. Also, it's obviously not what Jean Grey actually has, so it probably would have been a kind of blanket diagnosis.
> 
> I'm roughly drawing on Logan's backstory as shown in Origins: Wolverine (although some events from Origins: Wolverine would be annulled by DOFP, so... whatever, Marvel, I'm doing my best with what you're giving us ;)


End file.
